


here is the chronicle of what we do with our mouths

by kuro49



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Kissing, Other, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 23:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18839083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: He kisses him. He kisses back. And then she is kissing them both.





	here is the chronicle of what we do with our mouths

**Author's Note:**

> based on a types of kisses prompt list i’ve long since lost in the depths of tumblr. but also, oh mann, i sorely miss writing poly fics :'DD

 

i. stay in bed kisses: mischievous and deep, left on neck and shoulder, unhurried and tender, with arms wrapped around the waist.

 

“Robin’s cute.”

That’s the first thing she says to him when Nightwing finally gets through the new upgrade she made to the security system of her bedroom. He is several seconds faster than she’d like but that just indicates that she might want to make a few more changes to what she’s already reconfigured.

Nightwing still has one leg hanging outside of her window sill when he snaps his eyes to her, faking that perfect picture of being genuinely hurt even when she can't quite catch the look in those baby blues from behind the lenses of his domino mask.

“Babs, you're breaking my heart." He says on a dramatic gasp. "So you don’t love me for my personality?”

Out of her uniform and with her hair still damp at the roots, Barbara lays down on her bed with a grin and a groan-worthy stretch. “It’s not always about you, boy blunder.”

“Oh! You met little wing then.” Dick bounces back just as quick, grinning just as wide as he pulls himself all the way inside, closing the window firmly behind him before tugging the thick blackout curtains shut while the sun starts to rise outside.

“Mmhm.” She says as he starts stripping out of his uniform, blue on black peeling back for black and blue across his back. “Jay’s cute.”

“Cuter than I was?” Dick asks, getting into bed with her on the rare nights he still comes all the way back home to Gotham on Batman's request.

“ _Much_ cuter.” Barbara tells him, wrapping her arms around his waist, shifting for him to lean down so his mouth is dragging hot little kisses up the column of her neck, biting down on the swell of her bottom lip while her pulse quickens beneath the heat of his breath and the threat of his teeth.

“The kid blushes," she tells him, recalling all the little reactions she can still get out of the new boy wonder, "and he gets embarrassed when he is in those little scaly green shorts of yours.” Shaking faintly with laughter when Dick protests with a nip of his teeth against the curve of her shoulders, she continues. “Unlike _some_ body I kno—”

He moves in true Nightwing fashion to kiss her full on the mouth, steals the rest of her teasing from the flat of her tongue.

She barely gets enough hours in this bed as it is and he is even worse than her when it comes to rest but they take all the time that they do not really have. Dick kisses her sweetly, languidly and deeply, leaves her feeling like she can just about melt into the mattress with him on top of her. 

So when he leans back to take a breath, telling her that he’ll show her _cute_ , she wraps her arms around his neck to drag him right back down to her.

 

 

ii. comforting kisses: pressed to tear-stained cheeks between whispered words of reassurance, fingers entwined in comfort.

 

Here, grounded with gravity that keeps his heart weighing heavily with grief, the dosage of reality is a lethal thing with Jason _gone_.

Dick stumbles into his apartment, and it feels like he is still in outer space when he cannot find his footing on an even surface. He doesn't really allow himself to stop and think. Doesn't let the brutal details of Jason's autopsy report sink in. Doesn't begin to put himself through the clinical words of each and every contusion and broken bone and laceration Jason suffered in order to imagine just how every point of contact must have felt like the maniac is setting fire to his veins.

He flickers on the lights and finds her curled up on his couch.

"Did Bruce tell you to come here?"

She lets out a laugh and it is a hollow little thing drawn out on a painful gasp when he can see the tear tracks still wet and shiny down her cheeks. She roughly rubs the back of a hand across her face before she is sitting up to make room for him on this distinctively uncomfortable couch.

He knows, he bought it second hand himself.

"He told me not to tell you and I listened." Barbara says, unflinching even as he stiffens in place next to her. "You were on a mission and I couldn't lose you too."

She doesn't close her eyes because she can still see the teenager who remained too thin at the wrists. She doesn't let more tears fall so her lashes quiver and her lower lip quakes because she can still remember how he always greeted her with a bright _Barbie!_ over the secured comm each night she signed on for patrol despite Batman scolding him in the next second for using anything other than her Batgirl moniker.

“I was there at the funeral.” She tells him with a finality he still hasn't come to.

Her hand finds his, drawing them in on a death grip. And Dick comes to the realization that Babs probably knew Jason better than _he_ ever did when she never let Bruce drive her out of town, never considered her disagreements with Bruce to influence a single moment of interaction she's had with Jay. 

“I—” He chokes out, leaning forward to wipe at the tears that are falling again from Babs' eyes despite all of her attempts to hold them back. “I wasn’t. I wasn't _there_."

His voice breaking on that last word. Her breaking down with him when he presses his mouth to her cheek in something much like desperation, tasting salt across his mouth, imagining the taste of all that blood coming up in his during those last few seconds.

When they start crying, they don't know how to stop. Their faces horribly blotchy, their eyes red and puffy, their voices hoarse and near gone before the night starts when they are outright wailing like children again, fat tears rolling down their cheeks in matching streaks, sniffling loudly with their noses plugged with snot.

They have lost before. But they have never quite experienced loss like this.

 

 

iii. heated kisses: with gasps in between, hands tugging at clothes and exploring skin, bodies pressing close.

 

A lot of it is reverence.

The rest desperation and mourning coming to fruition.

Dick looks like he wants to tell Jason there is love to it too but Barbara is grateful the original boy wonder still has that uncanny ability to read people and to bite down on his tongue when necessary because Jason is an open book with all of its pages torn out to lay spread across their sheets, and all of him is saying that he has no intention of hearing either one of them out.

Jason doesn’t let up with any of his hard edges, only slowing down when she puts a hand to his chest, settles him back to the bed and on to the flat of his back, her fingers outlining the thick rope of scars carving a vivid Y down to his navel. And it breaks her damn heart to see the way his eyes, outlined in that uneasy green, drift down to find her own: the single entry wound of that one bullet.

He holds his breath like he is daring her to say the thing to break the spell keeping him here.

She doesn't make it easy for him to find that excuse. "It's not luck that brought us here but you know that, don't you, Jay?"

She is down to a pair of panties and a thin loose tank from where she is straddling him, this time punctuating her words by grinding down against him with Dick's help, his hands around her bare hips, his weight draped easily across her back where he is kneeling just behind her.

The right answer to her question is that some things are meant to be, and they might be it.

But she isn't as hopeful as to think Jason would figure it out in one. So, she tests the water with how much they can have of him.

"Keep doing what you're doing and you can call it whatever you want, gorgeous." Jason tells her, breathless. A harsh intake drawn from between his teeth when he catches the way Dick's mouth moves across the curve of her shoulders, those blue-green eyes trailing after Dick's hands as they move from her hips to her waist, dragging the hem of her tank top up with him. He blinks, and she is seeing more green than blue in those eyes again. "But I guess that also means I get to call you _Batgirl_ too, right?"

Even with the heat in those eyes and her hands on his chest and over his heart, Jason looks just about ready to be kicked out.

If she hasn't long since made peace with her loss, she might be angry at the way he drudges up that old moniker she can no longer use. But this is Jason putting his hand into the water with a gaping cut, testing their limits for him and looking downright lost when she doesn't tear into him for it.

"Sure, Jay." She tells him, leaning down again to meet his mouth for another kiss, touching her tongue against the tip of his, tasting the heat of every single one of his heavy pants when she draws back to murmur with a smile that is just for him. "You can call me what you want, _gorgeous_ , but only if I can get you inside me right now."

It is probably the wrong way to go about it but it is his turn to heal, she thinks to herself. She can hear Dick's groan from behind her, and she figures he is all for healing of this kind. The two of them startles a laugh out of her when Jason winds his arms around her waist, dragging her closer, lifting himself up at the hips so Dick can help him work his jeans off from the stretch of those legs.

" _Fuck_ , Barbie." He says to her, swallowing hard and there is a fair bit of awe in his voice when he finally sinks into her, his mouth back on her skin, following the trail of love bites Dick left on her. "You're gon' be the death of me."

And if she thought Jason sounded good now, rapture in his voice like a pour of whiskey over ice, she wasn't the least bit prepared when Dick bottoms out inside of Jay.

 

 

iv. long, slow kisses in the afterglow: fingers woven through hair and hearts beating in unison, mouths all swollen and bruised.

 

He is always long gone before their sheets are even cold, and he prefers it that way.

Because his own bed might be cold but it is all his. His bed isn't their bed that is too soft, cluttered with far more pillows than they have heads. And it might not smell of the fruity shampoo Dick likes or that lavender body lotion Babs uses but he is on his own and it is better that way. It just keeps getting harder to remember _why_ when he is lying completely fucked out between them.

Except, it comes out, tumbling head over heels like a forgone conclusion: "You don't need me here."

Jason keeps his eyes closed and goes completely still, feeling the direct heat from the both of them at every point of contact where they are pressed so close to him.

"We want you here." Dick answers, easily and almost without pause, shifting closer as he does.

There is a long weighed silence where that statement goes unanswered, Jason waiting for them to withdraw that sentiment. Except they don't.

Like some horribly drawn out joke, but the punchline doesn't come. Like blood in the open water, but the sink of teeth doesn't land.

“You think we wore him out?” Dick asks instead, sitting up on Jason's left and it is deliberate when he addresses Babs directly, reaching for the trajectory where he pretends Jason Todd has fallen asleep.

“I hope so because otherwise that'd mean your dick broke him.” Barbara doesn't skip a beat, she answers from where she is lying with her head on Jason's chest, her ear pressing against his heart, her cheek resting against the autopsy scar.

“I wasn't the only one who fucked him, Babs.” Dick keeps going. "You should take some responsibility too."

Jason hates how easily they settle him. “You two are assholes.”

Dick laughs, and it is still the most lovely sound, made all the better when he is leaning down to press his mouth to Jason's, kissing him softly and sweetly, long and almost painfully slow. One hand threading through his hair while the other finds Babs' where they can lace their fingers across the sharp jutting bone of Jason's hips.

Taking all the time he now has with them and feeling his afterglow drawn out when Dick has all his focus on him, not letting up even when Jason's mouth is aching something sweet, and yet, it still hits him by surprise no matter how many times they've said it by now.

“Love you too, little wing.”

 

 

v. wake up kisses: limbs still tangled together, hands wandering over exposed skin.

 

For all the height and weight that his little wing grew into, Jason is deceptively silent on his feet.

But Dick always knows when he comes home. With the blackout curtains left opened by a mere inch, he kisses Jason in the dim light of a much too early morning with Barbara's legs still entwined with his beneath their blankets.

“Aren’t you a little early to be home?” Dick asks, a lot sleepy but also a lot glad, groaning at the pleasant press of Jason's mouth as he drags several more kisses out of him before the man is moving to press his mouth to the underside of his jaw where Dick is pretty sure he needs a thorough shave.

“You aren’t happy to see me this soon, Dickiebird?” Jason asks, breathless when he finally leans back, sitting down on the edge of their bed to work the rest of his Red Hood gear off of himself.

“Getting back from an outlaw’s mission early sounds like it can’t be a good thing.” Dick muses, loving the way Jason sighs softly when Dick's hands reach out to help, undoing the buckles to the holsters stretched taut across Jason's shoulders.

“Trust me, we did good work.”

And Dick knows that too. It has him smiling when his hands finally get to touch the bare skin that he has been missing close to the full three weeks Jason has been off-world. Except his fingertips are coming away wet, and sticky. 

“It better be raining outside or—”

“Oh, that’s probably blood.” Jason tells him, unperturbed. “I didn’t change before coming here.”

It always takes a long while for Babs to wake up completely but there are exceptions and this is most definitely one of them when she is pulling herself up on an elbow on the bed from behind Dick to ask in that sharp Oracle voice of hers that has not been put through a modulator. “ _Your_ blood?”

“It's all mine, Barbie.” Jason turns around to say, like that is what they are concerned about when he adds in quick clarification. “Nobody died and I didn’t deliberately hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it.”

Dick thinks there is a vice grip around his heart because _fuck_ if he would ever let Jay go again.

He glances to Barbara, sees the complicated expression on her face and her fingers clenching into a death grip over the sheets to know she probably feels the exact same. He can kiss Jason again and again, and he does, and he can tell him the same three words over and over, and he has, but Dick doesn't allow himself to connect the dots. Not when they want to give Jason all the time in the world with figuring this out for himself.

Even rough with sleep, the little exhale Barbara lets out is strained when she drops back into bed.

“Come on, Jay." Dick gets up, tugging Jason to his feet but not before he is pressing one more lingering kiss across that soft mouth of his little wing. "Let's take a look at the damage before Babs gives you a new battle scar to show off."

Jason goes easily, his mouth turning up into a half-smile that is barely hidden in the low light of their bedroom.

It's a line made perfectly.

 

 

 

bonus. forehead kisses: chaste and sweet but lasting in their impact.

 

Robin would never say it out loud but he thinks it wouldn't be such a bad thing if Bruce gets called out on Justice League business a little more often if it means he gets to patrol Gotham city with Batgirl _and_ Nightwing.

He is scrapped up at the knees and there is a bit of a bump on his forehead from where he tumbled head first into one of Penguin's goons that is twice his size before getting knocked into the side of a brick wall for good measures. It isn't his best night but it still feels like one when he is perched on his favorite gargoyle with them on each side of him.

"You okay there?" Nightwing asks when he applies another Batman-themed band-aid to the last of the scrapes over Jason's knees, snickering at the cartoon _pow!_ next to the dark shape making up what has to be the Bat of Gotham.

"Never been better, N." Jason tells him with cheer.

Nightwing is hardly convinced, not when he can see the redness to Jason's forehead from the way the brisk Gotham wind has the kid's curls swept back. "You sure, little wing? That bump doesn't look too good."

"I'm fin— _ow_ , Barbie!"

Batgirl laughs at Robin's indignant cry when he reaches up to slap her finger away only to hit himself instead when she pulls away a fraction quicker than anticipated. His mouth pulls into a pout while his brows pull together in response, and Barbara has always had the softest spot for the Robin to come after since the very start.  


"Sorry, Jay. Let me make it better." She says to him, taking pity on that forlorn expression as she leans over to press her lips to his forehead. 

Before Jason can fully react to that, Nightwing is grinning. Something far too wide for it to not end his way. Ev en though Dick's eyes are hidden underneath the milky lenses of his domino mask, Jason and Barbara can both see his intention before he had to say. "Me too!"

And then, Nightwing is pressing a kiss gently to his forehead too.

Robin goes bright red from his cheeks to his ears, has Nightwing and Batgirl grinning at each other when they are back in the Cave and the first thing Agent A does is touch the back of his hand to Jason's forehead to make sure Robin hasn't come down with a fever. 

 


End file.
